RAST

She is terrified of me.

It is unbearable, this fear she has. To think that I have found my mate after so long only to find her so full of fear that she will not change to battle-form. Angry, I push my cock into the soft skin that carries her scent, but it is not the same as touching her. It is not the same at all, and from the look on her face, she is not pleased at my actions. This makes it even worse, and I am so full of need and frustration that I want to scream with it.

To burn something.

To destroy.

I shake my head, trying to will those thoughts from my mind. I must focus on my mate. She is all that matters now. There is no need to burn or destroy. Not right now. There is no war to be fought. Until I am called back to…

To what? I search for an answer and have none. My mind is too full of smoke and haze. I pump my cock into her soft, shedded skin again, but the scent of her fear permeates the wind around us, and it is impossible to keep my erection. Not when she watches me with her lips parted in shock, eyes wide.

Challenging me is the last thing on her mind in this moment.

I toss aside the skin in disgust, my cock limp. If my mate does not want me, I must think of another way to entice her into battle-form. She must challenge me so I can conquer her. No drakoni female will allow herself to take a mate unless she has been conquered first. My need for her gnaws at my mind, but I try to remain focused. She is my mate. She is here. Her scent is all around me and calming my thoughts. I need to figure her out, like any other puzzle. Unlock her secrets and make her realize that I am here, her mate. That I am waiting for her to challenge me, and then get her to shift to battle-form.

I will not let her out of my sight until then.

I change to my battle-form and settle on my haunches, watching her.

The best way to understand a foe is to watch their actions, and I settle in to watch her.

The female remains utterly still for some time, the only movement that of her chest as she breathes. She watches me with wide brown eyes, but they do not change color to indicate her mood. They do not need to. Even from here, I can smell her fear. It threatens to drown out the sweet scent of her body that wafts on the breeze, enticing me. I am patient, though. I keep my senses pricked just in case another drakoni catches wind of my mate and seeks to claim her, but my gaze never leaves her small form. Slowly, she sits upright, her hands moving over her body. She pushes her long hair out of her face and gazes around her, wary, then gets to her feet.

As she does, I notice one of her limbs is crooked. Her knee has healed badly and the bone juts at an awkward angle, but I do not smell blood. An old wound, then. The thought of someone harming her fills me with black rage, but I force myself to focus on her. On the light, sweet scent of her body. There is no blood, I remind myself. There is no one to attack for harming her.

But…it does explain why she is so fearful. She has been hurt in the past and expects me to harm her. I have vague memories of this. Of others so badly wounded that they hide in two-legged form, their battle-thirst destroyed with fear.

I must gain her confidence, then. When she relaxes enough to mate, she will assume battle-form.

She steps forward, her arms crossing over her chest, and shivers, her fingers digging into the flesh of her pale arms.

Cold? She is cold?

I reach for her with my claws, intending to pull her against me and share my warmth.

She shrieks and collapses to the top of the building, shielding her face with her arms.

I growl low in frustration at her reaction and pick her up anyhow, moving her against my breast and cradling her there to share my warmth. She must learn I will not harm her.

My female trembles against my scales, her body stiff in my grasp. I settle on my haunches once more and do my best not to flick my tail. As skittish as she is, my mate will likely be terrified with any sudden movements. For some reason, even though I am annoyed with her, I want to make her happy. I do not like the fear emanating off of her. It makes me…upset. I do not like that she fears me.

I want her body to smell of mating perfumes. Of the sweet scent of her cunt when it is wet with need, not fear. So I nuzzle her hair and tuck her against me, then lower my head, trying to seem as if I am resting. I slide one of my protective eyelids over my eyes, but I can still see shapes and forms, and I watch her like this.

It is clear she does not know what to make of this.

She remains completely still in my grasp for some time. Then, her movements so subtle I almost miss them, she nudges at my claws. Not much, and if I were not so attuned to her presence, I might have missed it. She pushes them away, just a little, and then relaxes. A moment later, another subtle shift, and then she waits some more.

This clever one is trying to sneak out from my grip while I “sleep.”

Amused, I pretend ignorance at her actions, fascinated. She continues to slowly detangle herself from my clutches, and eventually dares to pull one leg free. It is the wounded one, and as she carefully lifts it over my foreleg, I notice the mass of scar tissue on her skin. I want to study it closely, to understand what it is that happened, but that must wait. A moment later, she loses her balance and tumbles forward over my claws. The breath hisses from her throat in pain, and then she lies completely and utterly still.

Is she waiting to see how I react, then? I oblige her, yawning to show off my sharp teeth and then settling my head down once more as if I am returning to my nap. I can see the tension ease in the slim set of her shoulders, and it makes me want to run my muzzle along her soft skin, to brush her long hair aside and breathe deep of her scent, to flick my tongue at the base of her neck and see how she reacts.

But I cannot have these things yet.

I remain in place as she gets to her feet—noting the wobble in her movements—and then creeps away with quiet steps. My senses are alert, now. Is she looking to escape or merely exploring? Surely she knows I will not let her go. Even if she were to climb down from our perch, I could follow her scent anywhere. She is burned into my soul.

The small female moves to the edge of the building and gazes out, one hand shielding her brows from the sun. A look of frustration crosses her face, and then she swipes a hand over her cheeks and turns back toward me. She thinks for a long moment, and then limps in my direction. Her arms cross back over her chest and she hugs herself, hesitating.

She looks so lost and forlorn, so fragile. It is strange to think of a mate as fragile. Drakoni females are fierce, vicious creatures. But…she is not drakoni.

After a moment, she gives a little sigh and moves back to my side, tucking her small body against my scales to share my warmth.

She is not fleeing. She is staying with me. My heart is so full of pleasure I could trumpet my joy to the skies, but all I do is slide my foreleg around her and hold her close.

AMY

There’s no point in trying to escape. The hopeless realization occurs to me as I stare out over the ledge of the building. We’re up on the roof, and even from here I can tell it’s way too high for me to get down from on my own, unless there’s a ladder. Somewhere. This building is utterly massive, though, and as far as the eye can see, there’s nothing but rooftop and air vents. It isn’t until I gaze out on the “lawn” that I realize that it’s not a lawn at all. It’s an old parking lot that’s cracked and grown over, and this building isn’t a mall like I first thought.

It’s a casino.

I’m a little disappointed in that, because a mall would have clothing and goods I could use for survival. I don’t know what a casino will have. I’ve never been to one. Right now, the lack of clothing is bothering me more than anything because my pack’s gone. Somewhere between my kidnapping and our landing, it fell from my arm and now it’s lost somewhere between here and the wilds of Old Dallas. That means I have no comb, no food, no panties, and no clothes. I glance backward, where the dragon is sleeping, and near his foreclaws are the tattered remains of my dress. If he didn’t come in it, I guess I could try to put it on again…but I shudder at the thought.

If. Big if.

I rub my arms to ward off the high breeze. Figures that it’s normally blistering hot and the day I get kidnapped, it’s overcast and cool. I’m chilled, but there’s not much I can do about it except return to the dragon's side. I move away from the ledge and step back toward him, considering.

I can't run from him. Even if I were in perfect shape, he'd be able to follow my scent. Kael can sniff Claudia out for miles around. And right now, my bad leg is throbbing and aching something fierce. If it hurt this bad back at home, I'd wrap it and stay off of it for a few days, but I don't have that option. I have to ignore it. My stomach growls, and it makes me realize just how dry and dusty my throat feels. I have to ignore all that, too.

The dragon sleeps on, oblivious to my furious internal debate. Like this, with his head down and his eyes lidded, he looks almost peaceful, probably because I can't see his fangs from this angle, or the blood that's dried on his scales. But…he didn't rape me. He didn't hurt me, either. The moment he realized I was scared, he freaked out and flew off of me like I was diseased. If he'd wanted to hurt me he could have. I've been pinched and prodded far worse by the men at Fort Dallas. I don't think he aims to kill me, either.

Which means he must think I'm his mate.

I don't know how I feel about that. Part of me is utterly terrified at the thought, because he's a murderer. Part of me is also fascinated. How is he going to treat me if he thinks I'm his mate? Will he love me? Cherish me?

Can I live with myself if I'm cherished by a murderer? I've never thought about that.

But if he does think I'm his mate…he's definitely going to try to put the moves on me again. I feel flustered and nervous at the thought. I've never even been kissed. Groped, yes. Had my boobs squeezed and my ass grabbed? Yes. Been crudely propositioned? A hundred times. But no one's ever kissed me or been tender with me.

I have to admit that part of me is yearning to learn what it's like to be kissed by someone that loves you. I know I'm a foolish romantic. I know that looking for tenderness from a murderous dragon is probably equally foolish. But I can't help the thoughts that pop in my head. Maybe it's because I'm trapped and the fact that I can't walk or run away has me considering what I'll do if I become his mate.

After all, what other options do I have?

The high winds bite at my skin, forcing me back toward him. He's warm, at least, and I'm cold.

I move to his side, even though it feels like insanity to return to the one that kidnapped me, and curl up against his scales. His foreleg immediately moves to curl around me, and it's strange, but it's not so bad. The claws curl tight around my leg and I remember the way he shook his head back and forth, snapping the neck of his rival, and a cold rush of fear moves over me again. “Just don't kill me, okay?” I whisper, awkwardly patting his scales. “Maybe we can be friends if nothing else.”

Here's hoping.

* * *

I want to drift off back to sleep because there, I don't have to think. Unfortunately, I can't. I'm too scared and stressed, and so I just sit in place and think and worry and wonder if I'm going to die here, alone. Surely he didn't grab me to kill me, I remind myself. He wants a mate, not a snack. As my brain tumbles around my situation, trying to figure out what to do, I eventually decide that I'm going to have to be brave and befriend this dragon.

Friends don't eat friends. Hopefully. And even though he tried to mount me like he would a mate, I'm hoping that if we establish friendship, he won't try it again.

All right, then. I can be warm and friendly. I'll learn his name—somehow—and then maybe we can start a line of communication. I try not to think about the fact that Claudia said that Kael could only speak with her once they'd bonded. At the time, I'd innocently thought it was when they opened their minds to each other, and she didn't go into detail. Now that I've been taken by a dragon myself, I remember the way he looked at me and put his body over mine and think that “bonding” is going to be something very different entirely.

That will just have to wait. I'm not doing that. Not with a murderer.

I sit quietly and close my eyes, trying to enjoy the fact that I'm in the sunshine and the open air. Isn't this what I wanted? It's ironic, because all my dreams are coming true and I've never been more terrified in my life. I need to pee, but I don't dare budge. What if dragons are like other predators and the moment you run, it makes them want to chase? It's best to just remain calm and wait and see what he does. I can do this. Claudia and Sasha and Emma all confronted a dragon and ended up happy. If they confronted a dragon, I can do it, too. I think. My leg hurts, reminding me that I'm not quite as strong physically as them. That's all right, though. That just means I can't run away. Really, I wasn't going to do that anyhow—he could outrun me in an instant. My plan has to be something non-physical, which is why I'm going to go with friendship, as corny as it sounds.

My stomach growls, loud. I wince as the dragon's eye pops open and he glances down at me. The black swirling in his gaze fades to a pale gold and he lifts his head, nudging at me with his nose. I quiver with fear under that touch, but when he doesn't do anything else, I wonder if he's waiting for me to do something, to make a move. Oh boy. “Um, hi,” I say softly and wave my hand. “I don't know if you can hear me like this, but it'd be really nice if we could talk in person and then maybe find a restroom. And lunch.”

The head lowers immediately, gaze focused on me, and I cringe. Not only did I sound silly demanding lunch from a dragon, but I don't know if he even understands me. God, I'm such an idiot. What was I thinking? What—

A moment later, the dragon shifts into human form and I nearly fall backward in surprise, after resting against his scales. He uncurls his naked body, standing straight in a fluid motion that I've seen Kael do a hundred times, and I automatically avert my eyes so I don't look at his nudity, staring at the ground at my feet.

Of course, the whole “not looking him in the eye” thing works for about all of two seconds because he crouches in front of me and touches my chin, forcing me to look into his face. When he does, I'm struck by how handsome and strong his face is. He looks a bit like Kael, but his features are sharper, his eyes longer and leaner, his lashes not as thick. His nose is more prominent and his gold is different. And then of course, there are the scars along his neck. He studies my face and then reaches down and pokes my stomach before I can push his hand away.

I flinch back and gasp in surprise, because, well, I wasn't expecting that. The dragon-man growls low, as if displeased with my reaction, and his nostrils flare. He studies me hard, and it's like he's waiting for something.

“You scared me,” I whisper breathlessly.

I also notice for the first time that he’s not completely naked. There’s a faded bit of material tied around his wrist. I’ve noticed it before, I think, the small tangle of thread on his claw in dragon-form. I didn’t realize it carried over to his human form, but of course it does.

“Do you want me to get that off your wrist?” I ask, gesturing at the threadbare bit of material.

He leans closer, and I forget all about what he’s wearing on his wrist. He’s so close. I feel my cheeks scalding with embarrassment because he's very, very naked, and the crouch he's in leaves nothing to the imagination. I can see every muscle on his flat stomach and the way his cock hangs between his legs, and it's utterly shocking. I'm starting to realize just how sheltered I've been, thanks to my sister, and I think all of that innocence is going to get stripped away hard with this guy around.

I kind of want to stare, too, but I'm not brave enough. So I close my eyes again.

“Huuussss?” he murmurs, the words weird and swallowed.

I open my eyes again, surprised that he spoke. “You can talk?”

“Huuu,” he repeats, and then pokes one long, dangerous claw at my chest.

Oh. Does he think that's my name? I hesitate out of fear, but this is the opening I've been waiting for. I paste a bright smile on my face as if this is the best thing ever, and then tap my chest. “Amy.”

The dragon-man tilts his head, animal-like, studying me. Before I can figure out what he's thinking, he grabs my jaw suddenly, and I whimper in fear as he squeezes it. It's not a hard squeeze, but it's also not a comforting touch. He frowns at my mouth, pursing his lips, and then scowls, settling back on his haunches and gesturing at me with impatience.

I don't know what he wants. I remain perfectly still, doing my best not to tremble—and failing miserably.

He growls low and then reaches forward, long claws drifting over my cheek. I suck in a terrified breath, but he only gives my jaw a slight squeeze again. I'm not sure what he wants, so I open my mouth. He gives my face another squeeze and then sits back, waiting, and makes another impatient gesture with his claws.

Then he taps his chest and makes the impatient gesture once more.

It takes me a moment to realize that he wants me to speak again. Is…is that why he's grabbing my face? I touch my chest again. “Amy—”

He reaches for my face before I can finish, and I bite back my name in a wordless shriek, cringing. He studies my jaw with those long, gold-and-black eyes, and then opens his mouth slightly. With his grip, he works my jaw again, and I'm reminded of a wooden puppet I saw back in Fort Dallas once. For some reason, the absurd visual makes me want to laugh out of horror. Is that what this is? He's forgotten how to talk? “Amy,” I say again, drawling the word slowly.

Sure enough, he watches my mouth with intense fascination, his lips parting as I sound my name out. I think he has forgotten to talk after all. I say my name again, and a third time. “Aaaaaamyyyyyy. Amy.”

“Aaaaaah,” he tries, and the sound is guttural and angry, his nostrils flaring. He looks irritated, and I cringe when he releases my jaw and narrows his eyes at me once more.

“Aaaaaa,” I try again, flattening the sound and opening my mouth wide. “Aaaaaa meeeeee.”

“Aaaaahm,” he echoes, biting off the sound. Then he smiles, as if pleased he was able to kinda-sorta make the sound of my name. Of course, his smile is equally terrifying, because his teeth are long and sharp like a predator's. If I hadn't met Kael and seen this sort of thing in the past, the sight of this would have made me pee on myself, but it's almost comforting. Almost. I've never seen Kael smile quite like this.

And I can't forget the way he snapped that neck, like it was nothing.

“Amy,” I agree, repeating and tapping my chest. To move things along, I timidly reach forward and tap at his breast, indicating I want to know his name.

His nostrils flare and black swims over his eyes. The smile fades and turns to something angry, and I shrink back in terror when he jumps to his feet.

I guess I don't get to learn his name.